Kismet
by SaturnineSunshine
Summary: Unconnected one-shots with all things CB. The OTP. "'I'll be weak if you want. I'll be mature if you ask,' Chuck said. 'But I'm starting to think he didn't make you as happy as you claimed.'"
1. Turkish Delight

Word Count: 327

**A/N**: Shortest o/s to date. I don't usually write vignettes that aren't included in Allusions (S3 coming soon) but I was reading Fight Club (it's awesome, go read it) and was just inspired. I'm actually really proud of this and like it a lot. Probably because it's so short. Not too original, but it had to be written. This was also so short I was considering doing a multi-fic with unrelated o/s like this. So tell me what you think.

**Disclaimer**: Thanks to **comewhatmay.x **who beta-ed something that was virtually nothing. I don't forsee being inspired like this in the future but you never know. Oh, and I don't own anything, you know the drill.

* * *

It wasn't slow and gradual. It wasn't that he was pining for her for years before finally getting his chance with her. It wasn't that he was secretly in love with her without even knowing it.

Falling in love with Blair Waldorf wasn't like that.

One day Chuck Bass didn't love her and the next day he did. It was that simple.

He remembered the exact moment it happened.

He was asleep.

The moment Chuck Bass had fallen in love with Blair Waldorf, he was asleep.

The previous night, Blair had fallen asleep in his bed. He had been accustomed to these sorts of displays ever since Serena left and Nate continued his traipse into the land of unrequited love. It wasn't the first time she had fallen asleep in his bed.

Nate had kissed who he thought was Serena and was late in finding Blair. Blair, who longed to give her perfect boyfriend her untarnished virginity.

It didn't work out.

That night Blair fell asleep in his bed, and as she cried her eyes out, and there was one constant that Chuck had to keep asking himself.

_Why me?_

Why did they seem to know each other better than anyone else when their disdain for the other's values was so strong?

_Why me?_

This all became very clear when she left his bed. Tear stains dried on his pillow and his sheets smelled like her perfume for a week. There was a reason why he didn't get the maids to wash them.

He just didn't know what it was.

The next night he did.

That night he had a dream. He had the most vivid dream he had ever had and it involved grinding on Blair so hard that she moaned out his name.

When he woke up, he was in love with her.

The next night Blair Waldorf crawled upon the stage of his newly purchased burlesque club and stripped for him.

It was kismet.


	2. The Chase

**A/N**: Since "Kismet" was such a short thing, I decided to make it a collection of one-shots. And also to alleviate my pain of the imminent doom that is next week.

**Summary**: Her 20th birthday, and she had already been set on her path to empowerment. Years later, she wasn't any different. Years later, she was still that insecure little girl and there still remained one man that made her that way. In the best—and worst—way possible.

**Disclaimer**: Nothing is mine, and _Elle _was something that was suggested by my awesome beta **comewhatmay.x**. Characters are Gossip Girl's.

* * *

It had been the start. Her 20th birthday, and she had already been set on her path to empowerment. Years later, she wasn't any different. Years later, she was still that insecure little girl and there still remained one man that made her that way. In the best—and worst—way possible.

Sitting in her old room at her mother's house, turning the pages of her signed copy of This I Remember was the only way she could distract herself. No more refusals of red dresses and tearing up treaties. She was the editor of _Elle_ and she wouldn't indulge his childish games anymore.

Apparently no one told him that.

So absorbed in Eleanor Roosevelt's trials, she didn't hear the chime of the elevator and the knowledge that the idiotic doorman let him up. She most certainly didn't hear his predatory tread up her stairs. The only sound was her even breathing and her fingers itching the corner of the next page.

And then her breaths got stilted.

She recognized the drawn out knock on her door and she damned herself—and the light that broadcasted her consciousness at four in the morning.

And damn him to hell too, while she was at it. Damn him, because she was walking towards the door and even though she couldn't smell the new cologne that he recently discovered she couldn't resist-paired with his natural musk he had developed since they were sixteen-she knew it was him.

She knew how self-deprecating it was to open that door, because as she did, there he stood. And she knew there was no way she could get out of this.

But at least she tried.

She ignored his rumpled clothing, the strong stench of scotch, and the way his disheveled hair fell across his forehead. She grabbed the door in attempt to send him a message—by slamming it in his face.

He had been waiting for it.

"Not so fast, darling," he said fondly, wedging his foot between the door so it flung back against the opposite wall. "If you didn't want me here you wouldn't have opened the door."

"How was I supposed to know it was you?" Blair sneered, turning her back him, and cringing at the soft and intimate sound of the door closing behind him.

She was very aware of the sound of the lock clicking into place.

"Don't you find this innocent act of yours tiring?" Chuck sighed, sounding quite fatigued himself. "After ten years, I know you are as much aware of my presence as I am of yours."

"Through a solid door?" Blair asked, taking a seat on the bed, and promptly scolding herself for situating herself in the last place that was appropriate.

"Through..." Chuck trailed off suggestively, eying her nightwear, "everything."

Not liking Chuck's advantage in height over her, and the threat that he could easily pin her to her own bed frame, Blair got to her feet, attempting to look as intimidating as possible as she glared into his eyes.

The amusement on his face only infuriated her more.

"I want you out of my house," Blair said, begging her voice not to waver. His laugh was condescending and she forced herself to control the hand that was begging to slap him.

"Convince me," he urged. "This hasn't been your house. Not for a long time."

"I grew up here."

"But your marriage bed is in a penthouse that I own," Chuck reminded her, taking her diamond adorned left hand and placing a subtle kiss on it. She wasted no time pushing him away.

"We're separated, Chuck."

"So we are," Chuck answered in a tone that was too calm for her taste. "But I have happened to notice that this is the third time in our six years of marriage that we've been separated. Doesn't that seem strange to you?"

"No," Blair said. "You're an inconsiderate, lecherous bastard and I've had it with you."

"Doesn't it also seem odd," Chuck said, ignoring her last statement, "that all three times it was you filing the order?"

"Like I said," Blair answered, "you're selfish and I'm done with you."

Never once did Chuck's face fall and she knew he had literally and figuratively backed her into a corner.

"You can't fool me," he said softly. "I'm your husband and I'm going to stay that way. You love my selfish lechery and even though I do things to make you cry sometimes, you only file for trial separation to make me chase you."

The reality that she had been so desperately trying to hide from Chuck shattered, and she knew her bedroom door was locked for a reason.

"And I will never stop chasing you," he smirked easily. "You can count on that."

"You're perverse."

"You love it."

They breathed heavily as their mouths met furiously. He tugged at the sash on her satin robe, revealing her delicate negligee. He grunted with concentration, pushing her towards the door. Her hand shot out, sending the lamp crashing to the floor as they forced themselves together in uncoordinated perfection.

"I missed you," he surrendered into her neck, fighting with the clothes that still encumbered on her body. No words were allowed past her lips. She just pressed him closer, his smirk growing more prominent along with other parts of his anatomy as she pressed her wedding ring into the flesh of his neck.


	3. Premeditated

**A/N**: Of course on a liesurely watching of the last three minutes of 4x07 I got inspired. I just noticed how surprised Chuck looked when he grabbed Blair, and thus, this was born. Hope you like :)

**Summary**: The seducing fury that she had could make his heart halt with one look, break with a second, and seethe with hatred by the end of the night. This was the curse he was plagued with, and this was Blair Waldorf.

**Disclaimer**: Nothing belongs to me except this obsessions. Thanks tons to my beta **comewhatmay.x.**

* * *

Chuck Bass always knew he was a weak man. When he was a child, Bart had convinced him that he killed his mother. As a pre-teen, he knew that Georgina Sparks was toxic, but her feminine wiles were too much for him to resist. And at sixteen, at the cusp of finally becoming a man, temptation had become too much.

Because the microsecond that Blair Waldorf clicked her heels up those steps, he had to know that there was no room for him to resist. There was nothing he could do.

At sixteen, Chuck Bass knew he was a weak boy.

At nineteen-going-on-twenty, Chuck knew he was no better as a man. At the twentieth birthday party of the girl-woman six months older than him, he was convinced he was angry.

The seducing fury that she had could make his heart halt with one look, break with a second, and seethe with hatred by the end of the night. This was the curse he was plagued with, and this was Blair Waldorf.

Of course, at the time, he was stubbornly denying any allegations that even suggested it. He was Chuck Bass. Nothing made him retreat. Nothing made him afraid. Nothing could breach that ice cold heart that cracked in his chest.

And yet, standing there in the dark, candles flickering as even higher heels clicked across the foyer, he had to pause. The way her dark eyes had widened with his supposed betrayal, the way she accusingly admitted to missing him hours before—it meant nothing. He couldn't let it mean anything. He couldn't let this _woman_ could sashay around him, completely aware of the affect she had over him. He was going to hurt her.

Waiting for her in the dark, all he felt was that familiar feeling thrumming through him. It was the taste for blood. It was the desire. He desired for her destruction now more than ever. Because now he knew he couldn't be friends with her.

He just couldn't.

Tonight, he had come to destroy her. And even as her venomous mouth curled condescendingly, and her perfect brow furrowed with detestation, he knew that could never change. He would never change the way he felt about her. She was cruel and vindictive, and even though she looked completely desirable in a dress that happened to match his dinner jacket, he had to kill her. He just had to. She deserved it, and God, he was going to give it to her.

"Every nerve ending in my body is electrified by hatred."

It was those simple words. Even as they approached each other in their cautious—but deadly—way, and even as they built off of each other, feeding on each other's rage, he had to remember.

He had to remember hours before when he remarked on the air conditioning.

_I'm positively feverish._

Her exact words.

And as she swept past him, he thought he had felt a spark.

"So it's settled, then."

She was looking at him expectantly, and for the first time, it occurred to him.

They were settled. Never again would he pretend to be civil with her. Never again would he allow it.

That had been his intention.

But in retrospect, never to his recollection had he been true friends with Blair Waldorf. Never gone to the movies or shared notes during class. Blair Waldorf and Chuck Bass thrived on each other's fire. And that was that.

"We're settled."

No. When Chuck Bass lurked in the shadows, always observing the eternally ethereal Blair Waldorf, he had every intention of hurting her. That was what they did and they could never be any different.

He forgot to take into account the fact that he loved Blair Waldorf as much as he hated her.

And he was a weak man. He was weak when he was a sixteen-year-old boy and he was just as weak—if not more—as a nineteen year old man with a diamond engagement ring at the bottom of his safe.

Because now he knew what it was like to have Blair Waldorf break his heart. And he would never let it happen again.

Chuck Bass had every intention of making Blair Waldorf feel every ounce of pain that she had inflicted on him.

Maybe he shouldn't have looked back at her.

His fingers curled around the document in frustration, and only as the jagged pieces fluttered to the floor did he consider it to be sexual frustration. No one knew him like Blair and he practically had confirmation that no one could please Blair like he could.

He was supposed to hate her. He was supposed to hurt her.

But as he looked up into those brown eyes as her body stiffened with surprise at his impulsive violence, his body reacted.

He couldn't understand how for one solitary minute, he had forgotten how goddamned beautiful she was. Someone could only be as attractive to him as her if she was from hell. Just like him.

He didn't mean it. He didn't want to be weak. He didn't want to be completely at her mercy. He didn't want this obsession of her to keep whirling around his brain, but then again, he was the one stalking her in the shadows of her own house.

Her body stiffened and he just reacted. He found him just staring at her, feeding off of every vibe she gave him and he saw the vague vulnerability beneath her facade. It was quickly covered by her furious mask, but he saw it.

He shouldn't have looked.

He shouldn't have remembered how pathetically in love with her he still was.

He didn't mean it.

But his hand was on the back of her neck. He could wrap it around her throat so easily, but his first instinct kicked in. Instinct overpowered everything and only one thought entered his brain. He didn't know what he was doing.

This was no choice. This wasn't pre-meditated. This wasn't planned.

That didn't stop it from happening.

She didn't shove him away. She was just staring and that was the moment he really realized he had torn up that treaty.

It was the first time he realized that Article 19 was in pieces on the floor and he no longer had to abide by it.

So he pulled her into his body, relishing with smug satisfaction how she wrapped her arms around his back without hesitation. She didn't allow it for long, because in a few moments, her heels were digging into his back punishingly.

Yes. Chuck Bass was a weak man.

Then again, there was a thin line between love and hate.


	4. In the Dark of the Night

**A/N**: I'm nervous about this. I haven't talked about this subject matter before, and although it's not the main focus of this chapter, still not really sure how it's going to be taken. Maybe I'm overreacting. Maybe I'm not. Decide.

**Summary**: That was the other thing she hated about him. How cold and distant and even cruel he could be. And then he was that. He was so good to her in all the wrong ways that she found herself not hanging up on him.

**Disclaimer**: Nothing is mine. I just wanted to try this out. Thanks to **comewhatmay.x** who is the awesomest beta a girl can have.

* * *

She had to be the most masochistic person to ever exist. Looking at the flashing light of the incoming call, she was aware of this.

She still answered.

Holding the phone up to her ear, she refused to say the first words. He called her, and she'd be damned if he thought that he could affect her in any way.

"Good morning, Waldorf."

Then again, damn her if she wasn't going talk at all.

"It's night here."

"I know."

The smugness behind his words completely illuminated the obvious fact that he was pleased she had actually picked up.

"I don't know why I answered."

It was the last thing she wanted. It killed her that he could feel, even oceans and time zones away, that she was still the vulnerable, insecure little teenager she would always be.

"Because you miss me," he answered, with his usual smugness. "And I miss you."

That was the other thing she hated about him. How cold and distant and even cruel he could be. And then he was that. He was so good to her in all the wrong ways that she found herself not hanging up on him.

A pregnant pause hung in the air between them and he chuckled darkly. She cursed the traitorous goosebumps that rose on her arm.

"Don't rush to agree with me," he said smoothly.

"What makes you think I do?" she asked sharply.

"Because you haven't hung up on me yet," Chuck said. "And it's the first time in six months that you've actually taken one of my calls."

"Remind me why that is again?"

"Because you miss me," he stated blatantly, as he had before.

"I meant why you think calling me is such an attractive option."

"I've been thinking of you."

That was all he said. Like that was such an answer.

"The last time I saw you..." he began in a suddenly sultry tone, and she herself suddenly realized that yes, she was in her finest lingerie, sitting on the bed where he had, at one time, gone down on her while her best friend sat right next to her. "Do you remember?"

"No," she said bluntly.

But they both knew that was just a test.

"You were wearing that red dress that you know clings to every one of your perfect curves so well. You couldn't help but parade yourself tauntingly in front of me," he said, his voice significantly lower.

She hated him.

"At that benefit for the toads."

"It was for the Girls' Inc. Foundation," she corrected before she could stop herself.

"I thought you didn't remember," he said in that tone that made her know he was smirking.

Bastard.

"I thought I made it very clear at our last conversation that I never wanted to see you again."

"Can you see me?" he teased. "I thought this would be a satisfactory way to test the waters."

"I told you I never wanted to speak to you again," she snapped.

"You just needed to cool off," he said dismissively.

"This isn't one of our petty fights," she said coldly. "You left. Again."

"That can be easily remedied," he said darkly. "What makes you think that I haven't come back?"

"The area code on your phone number," she replied.

"I do miss you," he said after a moment. "And I know you miss me too."

"Not anymore," she said distantly.

"Really?" he asked in that manner that sounded like he was about to accept a challenge.

"Don't," she whispered into her phone.

"Don't what?" he asked.

"Just don't."

"I'm not a mind-reader," he said. "I can't give you something if you don't tell me what it is."

"I don't want you to give me anything," she said desperately. "I want you to leave me alone."

"Don't fool yourself, darling," he said succinctly. "You want me to give it to you."

She could only swallow at his crudity, and she hated him for how he preyed on her known weaknesses.

"Like that night in the dark," he purred. "Where I concocted any excuse to be close to you. Where I pretended to hate you just to get my hand around your neck. And you liked it."

"I did hate you that night," she corrected.

"Is that why you pulled yourself on top of that piano?" he asked. "Is that why you let me rip your garter off? Is that why clawed at my back and grasped so desperately beneath my belt?"

"Chuck," Blair whispered.

"What?" Chuck asked, something resembling a groan lacing his words, and she knew he was doing exactly what she was.

"Don't stop."

"Oh, lover," Chuck sighed seductively. "What are you wearing right now?"

.

"What?"

That irritated tone. That escalating decibel. That overreaction to just one look.

Serena Van Der Woodsen knew when her best friend was having a breakdown. And it was happening right in the middle of brunch at Sarabeth's.

Serena didn't answer. She knew that Blair wanted to say it anyway.

Whatever it was.

"Alright," Blair relented. "Hypothetically, if an old friend were to call you in the middle of the night, and you started...reminiscing—about all of the...things you used to-"

"Oh my god, Blair," Serena said so loudly that the old couple in the corner gave her a stern stare. She turned back to her best friend, monitoring her voice. "You had phone sex with Chuck?"

"_What_?"

At Blair's incredulous outcry, Serena knew it was true.

"Blair," Serena said, trying to keep a good amount of judgment from her voice. "I haven't even done that."

"It isn't that uncommon," Blair said secretively, very aware of exactly where they were eating. "And I didn't even say it was... him."

"An _old friend _calls you in the middle of the night just to talk? Blair, " Serena scoffed. "And what about Preston?"

"We never discussed exclusivity," Blair said coolly, finally taking a look at her menu.

"Blair," Serena said seriously, slapping Blair's menu down lightly. "I don't have to remind you what happened. Chuck just left."

"For the company."

"Why are you defending him?" Serena asked. "Some guy proposes and then splits the next day?"

"At least he had enough tact to explain to my face and not leave a note," Blair muttered. "And it wasn't like I accepted anyway."

"That didn't stop you from breaking down on the floor of your bathroom-"

"That's enough, Serena," Blair said curtly and Serena knew that it was.

"Does Chuck know you have a boyfriend?" she tried instead.

"A casual relationship," Blair corrected. "And why would he care?"

"Because he always does," Serena reminded her.

"So?" Blair asked. "He's been doing business in Bangkok for six months. He's not coming back just because I'm dating some blue blood."

At Serena's silence, Blair looked up. And then she realized the real reason that Chuck had called the previous night.

"Serena," Blair said slowly.

"I love you, B."

And Blair knew exactly what Serena wasn't telling her.

.

He had been waiting for her.

And he knew that he would always be waiting for her. Maybe not always chasing, but he was just there. And she knew there was no escaping it.

"Surprised?"

He was smug and it took all of her power to keep her harsh expression in place.

"Was that you intention?"

"Of course."

"Then, no."

"I would expect nothing less," he smirked. Silence stretched between them and his eyes narrowed. "I meant what I said on the phone."

He watched her flinch as white-hot anger flooded through his stomach. It never changed. It never could. Blair Waldorf always incurred instinct within him and he would never be able to stop her from making me feel.

He took a heavy step towards her and was quickly rebuffed by her equal step back.

"What?" he asked coldly. "You're suddenly threatened by me because I made you come over phone lines?"

"Don't," Blair seethed. "Don't you dare use that against me."

"I'm not using anything," Chuck replied. "You're the one who screamed herself hoarse with her fingers drenched in her own-"

"You _left_ me, Chuck."

She wasn't denying anything. She wasn't asking him to leave. She was speaking the truth. And the truth was exactly how she put it.

"I thought we had an understanding, Blair," Chuck said.

"We did," Blair answered. "And then you decide to move business to Bangkok for six months."

"I thought you were going to wait for me."

"Why?" Blair asked. "You never waited for me."

"This is different," Chuck said.

"You said we were going to get married," Blair said quietly.

"Exactly," Chuck spat back. "So excuse my surprise when I find you're practically engaged to some Princeton graduate."

"You said we were going to get married," Blair reiterated. "But the next day you packed your things with barely an explanation. What would you have me do?"

"You and I are meant to be together," Chuck said, unable to meet her eyes. And she knew that was all the explanation that was required, as far as he was concerned. "You and I are going to grow old together."

"So that's why you called last night?" Blair asked with disdain. "To mark your territory?"

"Whenever we're apart," Chuck began, "I can't help but feel so encredibly...anxious. But when you're with me, all of that anxiety just disappears. I feel like I'm going to be alright."

She knew it was the only way he could explain himself. And he knew that she would understand.

"You just told me how you felt," Blair said in astonishment.

"I know."

"Twice in the same breath."

"I know."

"You have yet to get down on one knee," she said bluntly.

A confident smirk finally broke across her features and she knew she was in trouble. Once again.

"It's coming."

"It better."


	5. Michael and Catherine

**A/N**: I'm really proud of this one so I hope you enjoy it.

**Summary**: She had been the only constant thing in his life, and he didn't want that to change. He had known since he was eighteen that she was the one for him. The one he would spend every last gasp of his wretched breath with. That would never change.

**Disclaimer**: Nothing belongs to me but the desire to see Chuck and Blair together forever. Thanks **comewhatmay.x** who beta-ed this like a crazy person. Because she's awesome.

* * *

"I want to father your children."

To be honest, it was the one sentence in his entire life that he hadn't meticulously and purposefully crafted to perfection. Everything about her was so controlled and poised, it was the only way he had foreseen winning her over.

That changed.

It changed the moment he realized he loved her—the moment he knew exactly what he wanted. Before, his whims were spontaneous and random, but this was different. She had been the only constant thing in his life, and he didn't want that to change. He had known since he was eighteen that she was the one for him. The one he would spend every last gasp of his wretched breath with.

That would never change.

He liked surprising her. She was a Waldorf, and she had seen everything. But watching her stare at him amongst the private room's art collection at the gala, he couldn't help but be smug.

No one could surprise her like he could.

Then again, when it came to her responses, there was no one like Blair Waldorf.

She got her wind back in an instant.

"If you think I'm going to spawn your bastard children, you're insane."

The complete surprise had been wiped off her face as she sneered coldly at him. Chuck just shrugged.

"And that's where we have ourselves a little problem," Chuck said. "Because you refuse to marry me. We're going to have either legitimate or bastard children. It's your call."

"What makes you think I want to carry your demon spawn at all?" Blair snapped.

"Waldorf," Chuck said condescendingly, "you are such a liar."

"What?" Blair snapped, but he could tell it was more out of surprise of his blunt statement.

"Don't try and convince me you wouldn't simply love for me to implant my seed in you."

He watched her eyes flash with fury as her mouth opened with shock, but mostly disgust.

"Close your mouth, Blair," Chuck advised coolly, "or you'll give me the wrong impression."

His eyes caught sight of her lethal looking heels, remembering how much she liked using it to her advantage whenever he got close to her like that.

"Unless..." Chuck smirked, "that's what you want."

"As if you're any expert on what I want," she sneered, her Louboutins clicking threateningly toward him on the tile floor.

"I'm the best expert when it comes to you," Chuck drawled. "You remember that from the very first night. You remember how perfectly we fit together. Even inside a moving vehicle with stop-and-go traffic."

It was easier to talk to her in that manner. The way in which they bristled like animals, preparing for war, walking towards each other with their warning snarls. It was always so easy to get close to her that way. In the way that neither of them could ever control—just magnets, drawn to each other, surrounded by their own heat.

And it was in this way that their roles were reversed. He remembered so long ago how she had cornered him next to a Van Gogh at the Vanderbilt Compound, ordering him to take her right there.

Things were different now. Because she wasn't pretending and he wasn't finding excuses. He slowly slid his hand up the wall next to her head.

"It could happen just as easily right here," he husked into her ear. "You never had qualms with leaving doors unlocked or people seeing us. Remember?"

"Was this your big plan?" Blair laughed cruelly. "Propositioning me in a gala held in honor of the magazine?"

He felt the hurt crush the breath out of him. But he could always count on his facade not to fail him.

"Sweetheart," he grinned, "it doesn't matter where I proposition you. Because at the end of the night, it's still going to be your scent rubbed all over me."

"You are _not_ getting me pregnant."

He knew it was her last ditch effort to push him away. She had no more retorts, nothing left in her arsenal.

He had one more.

"We'll see about that," he smirked before crushing her lips beneath his in a bruising kiss.

He was surprised how far she let him go. How far her dress went up her thighs and how far her thigh highs went down her legs.

Until she stopped it.

"Condom."

He was straining and panting, and he hated that this had to happen now when he was so ready for her. But he knew at that moment they weren't going to end up consummating anything. At least for tonight.

But that didn't mean he sure as hell wasn't going to try.

"No," he replied simply before kissing her again. Her nails were painful in his chest, and she shoved him for good this time.

"_No_?" Blair demanded incredulously.

"I wasn't kidding, Blair," he said. "You know my terms."

"You want children," Blair said in disbelief.

"I want your children."

He wasn't really sure why it was such a problem, but he knew as he was shoved into a painting, that he said something wrong.

Blair stalked out of the room, but he couldn't help but smile after her. He waited a moment before walking back into the party and ordering a drink.

"What was that about?"

Chuck knew that this natural born nemesis would never chante. But at the moment, Chuck was too satisfied to hate Dan Humphrey, even though Blair had a tendency to leave him hot and bothered.

"You really dodged a bullet," Chuck said, his eyes never leaving Blair who was conversing with investors while shooting him death glares across the room, "didn't you Humphrey?"

"I guess."

"Being in love with Blair Waldorf," Chuck said, "that is not a fate I would wish on anyone."

"I know," Dan replied definitively. Chuck cast him a look. The two of them may have not been at each other's throats any more, but that didn't mean that they were exactly civil either. "So what's the point?"

Chuck sighed, watching as Blair cast him yet another scathing but discreet look over the shoulder of her mother.

"Because Blair Waldorf and I were made for each other," Chuck said smugly. "And someday very soon, I'm going to marry her."


	6. Behind Plated Glass

**A/N**: So I know a lot of weird spoilers have been going around, and I honestly don't know what to think of them. This fic wasn't inspired by an spoilers, but I used a minor detail for it. I am not condoning or condeming any certain spoiler, this is just a fic. After seeing the promo, I decided I needed to get all of these fics that I've written ages ago out. It's clear the show is going in a vastly different direction, and they just need to be submitted.

**Summary**: "He wanted me to be happy," she said. "I don't know if that's what you call soft, but I call that selfless. And Chuck Bass doesn't do that for anyone."

**Disclaimer**: Nothing is mine. Inspiration comes from DH and characters are of course solely GG. Thanks to my beta **comewhatmay.x.**

* * *

"Do you love him?"

It wasn't a question that was usually protocol to ask. But there was something about this girl. Her wide doe eyes, and dark hair. He could tell why this kid was in love with her. He could tell that he was in the first place.

This girl was different. The kid may have been closed down and angry at everything, but this girl was cold. She cast hateful eyes at the detective and he had to wonder.

"Excuse me?"

Like the kid, she had come from obvious privilege. She had the same air of entitlement about her.

"Sometimes, people do stupid things when they're in love," the detective replied. "You're here to give the alibi."

"I am."

"Like I said," the detective said. "People do stupid things when they're in love."

"That's true," she said slowly. "I did something very stupid. But don't begin to insinuate that I'm lying. Because for the first time, that's exactly what I'm not doing."

"Do you lie a lot?" the detective asked.

"When it suits my interests."

"Is that a lot?"

"It is."

She had no remorse about speaking that truth, and in that way, he knew that there was something connecting those two.

"You never answered the question," the detective said.

"Let me tell you something," the girl said coolly. "On the night that The Empire caught fire, Chuck wasn't there."

"I assumed you'd say as much."

"He was with me," she continued.

"You understand we need someone to corroborate-"

"He was with me," she cut in, "because I had just gotten engaged. I was going to fly off to Monaco with my fiancée."

"He was jealous?" the detective asked.

"The last time Chuck found out I was with someone else," she said, "he instated a fatwa."

"A fatwa?"

"A ban to make sure everyone in Manhattan wouldn't touch me," she replied. "I don't know if Chuck was jealous. I would like to think so, now."

"Why?"

"Because if you didn't happen to notice," she continued, "I no longer have a ring on my finger. Chuck was with me that night. The entire night. I can't explain the complexities of my relationship with him, but there is a reason he hasn't defended himself. There's a reason that it took me so long to get here."

"What reason would that be?" the detective asked.

"Because if I told you that I was Chuck's alibi, my fiancée would find out," she answered, "wouldn't he? Chuck didn't want that."

"So I guess he's just soft on the inside," the detective couldn't help but say doubtfully.

"He wanted me to be happy," she said. "I don't know if that's what you call soft, but I call that selfless. And Chuck Bass doesn't do that for anyone."

"Except you," the detective gathered.

"I'm here," she said quietly. "And I'm telling you that Chuck was with me."

The detective looked down at her left hand.

"You can guess as to whether I love Chuck with everything I have or not," she said. "But one thing I can tell you is that I am not lying. The only stupid thing I did was let him rot in here as long as I have."

"I see," the detective said.

"So how long will it take for you to let him out?" she asked casually, checking her Cartier watch. "I have school."

For a moment, the detective just watched. Looking at her, he had forgotten that she was just a child. Still in college, yet she acted so mature and in control.

At his silence, she looked up.

"What?" she asked in annoyance. "Do you need anything else? More information? Do you want all the gory details of that night? Where we went? How good it was?"

In that instant, he knew she wasn't lying. About anything. He looked at her icy exterior, and saw the burning facade of the young man that was sitting in a jail cell.

"Trust me when I tell you," she said, "Chuck would never burn down The Empire. He has done dangerous and perverse things for that hotel. He loved that hotel more than life itself."

"Not more than you," the detective noted.

"If you would kindly release him, please," she said in a tone that made him think it wasn't really a question at all. "I'd really rather him not have to spend more time in this place than he has to."

.

Through the pane of glass, the detective couldn't help but watch. There was a strange sort of fascination he couldn't help but have as he watched the girl walk into the visitation room.

The defeated posture of the man straightened suddenly as the door closed. He wrung his raw wrists, and the detective knew that if the room wasn't sound-proof, he would hear the rattling of his handcuffs.

The girl was just hesitating at the door, and the detective had to wonder how long they were just going to stare at each other. She finally took her seat before him. Both of them continued to say nothing, but the boy—almost non-visibly—tilted away from her.

But only for a moment. Because the girl across from him, seemingly having enough of it, grabbed his shackled hands in hers. In that moment, whatever resistance he seemed to have melted away as he grasped her back.

For a moment, the detective had to stare in amazement. The only interaction he had with the two of them were cold exchanges and snide retorts about innocence. But the two of them were smiling at each other.

That kid was smiling so genuinely at a girl the detective was sure wasn't capable of feeling anything.

But then it all fell away.

The girl seemed to have said something and the kid shoved away her hands savagely. He ran his fingers through his hair before saying something to make the girl recoil. But before he could inevitably call the guard, she pulled him back, her perfectly manicured nails digging into his arm.

Whatever she said seemed to have convinced him because he was easing back into his chair. He simply stared at her with cold eyes as the girl continued to speak. It had never occurred to the detective how much more complicated the situation was, no matter what he heard the girl say about it.

But the kid seemed to be even more frustrated, his movements tense and jarring as he suddenly lunged forward, gripped the back of the girl's head. She stared unfazed back into his eyes as his knuckles turned white, fisting into her hair. Instead, she put a hand to his face, forcing him to really look at her.

And she said something.

The detective never knew what it was but it had changed things. Instead of in anger, the kid's grip turned passionate as he kissed her forcefully on the mouth. Before anything proceeded further, the door opened again, revealing the guards who had been in wait.

The kid shirked away again, only to be surprised as his handcuffs were unlocked. He looked at his hands as the guards left the room, up to the girl in the corner of it.

For a moment there was nothing.

But she walked towards his frigid posture, taking his hands in hers once again. She examined his raw wrists before pulling him into an embrace. He stood cold for a moment before returning her affection whole-heartedly. He buried his nose in her hair as they held each other close.

Her hand clasped around his own, finally leading him out of the room.

"Wait."

The detective paused around the corner, for the first time hearing any interaction between them.

"Blair-"

She cut him off. They were kissing again. But this time it was so hopefully and so earnestly, that the detective had his answer.

"I love you, Bass."

"I love you too, Waldorf."


	7. Make Me Crawl To You

**A/N**: I know how sensitive people are to Chair's characterization and such, so I would appreciate a little leniency on this one. This is just one interpretation, and it is also a future o/s. In my opinion, Chuck and Blair's passion excede logic, so none of those "sex doesn't solve everything" reviews, please. This isn't what this is. We all know how CB get heated and what transpires afterward.

**Summary**: She knew that even though he was on top, she had the upper hand. Even though she knew she would never leave him for someone else, it assured her how intertwined they would always be

**Disclaimer**: The last two pieces of dialogue are from DH's very own CB couple Carlos and Gabby. I heard it and I just had to use it. I crafted this fic around that, so if you don't like it, then that sort of kills the fic. Characters belong to GG and thanks to my awesome beta **comewhatmay.x **who backs me up on this one and who I hope hasn't forgotten about Reminiscence ;).

* * *

For the longest time, all Chuck Bass wanted was Blair Waldorf. Not just in the way of being a sweaty and lusty teenager in the back of the car. It was in the way of clinging onto a diamond ring so hard that a bullet ended up tearing through your insides.

He had soon realized however, that just because that same diamond was on Blair Waldorf-Bass' left hand, that didn't make all of that anxiety go away.

Or any of it.

He had thought that once she was officially and legally his, he could relax. He could stop scheming and calculating so maliciously for her. He thought the games would stop because there was no danger of her leaving him again.

Imagine his surprise when he realized it was just the opposite. The stakes were just as high.

More.

He was even more desperate for her not to leave him. Because after a divorce, he knew that she would never come back to him. Not right away at least, and he didn't know that he could handle that.

What he also couldn't handle was watching her humiliate him at a function thrown by his own company. He knew he deserved whatever she dealt him, and usually, he would revel in the chase. But this was the one subject he wouldn't wager on. This was the one subject that he had lost every other time.

And it was killing him.

"If I had known you were going to make such a whore out of yourself, I wouldn't have allowed you to come tonight."

And he had been drinking.

Then again, that wasn't exactly something particularly news worthy.

But it got her attention. And that was all he ever wanted.

"You've got some nerve," Blair sneered back at him. "Talking to me like that after everything you've done."

Blair's high heels crushed his instep as she passed him, but that was just a blip on his radar. He was relieved as she made her way to the library, away from the public party.

"We aren't finished," Chuck replied gruffly, taking her by the arm.

"You can't be touching me," Blair snapped, ripping savagely away from him.

Suddenly, he had a vicious flashback to the steps of their school and the idea of a pregnancy that he had to mock, just so he didn't have to confront the very real feelings he had.

"You had no problem with it this morning," Chuck taunted. He relished in the band of her ring pressing into his palm before she backed into a bookcase—and subsequently shoved him away again.

"That was before I found out about your betrayal," Blair snarled.

"Betrayal?" Chuck asked. "I wasn't the one who maxed out all of the credit cards today."

"Do you really find that a betrayal?" Blair laughed. "It's not exactly a new occurrence."

"It is when I find out that my wife has purposely used up all of our accounts so she gets the first Wallstreeter she comes across to pay for her."

"Well I know how much you love prostitutes," Blair seethed.

"That's in the past," Chuck said tersely.

"That's what I thought," Blair said. "But then again, that's what I thought about Jack as well. And look how wrong I was about that."

"It was just lunch," Chuck said, placating.

"Just lunch?" Blair asked. "Every single appearance of him has resulted in catastrophe. And you _lied_ to me."

"Because I didn't want you to overreact."

"Because you know I'm right," Blair said. "So watch me walk up to every man in this room and get him to buy out Saks for me. Because you know I can do it. And you know that I don't need you or your money."

"Don't."

This time she didn't even have room to swat him away. She was pressed so far up the bookcase that her shoes fell off and she couldn't help but wince.

"Why?" Blair snapped. "Because you know that's not an empty threat?"

"Jack can't hurt us anymore," Chuck said softly, contrasting to his harsh grip.

"Jack will hurt us whenever he damn well pleases," Blair said icily. "And you dealing with the devil is not helping those odds."

"I will beat him this time, Blair," Chuck promised. "I'll prove to you that I can win this time."

"I don't care about that," she answered. "It's in the past. But you lied to me. And that hurts more than anything."

"I lied to protect you."

"Is that better than lying to barter for your hotel with me?"

"It won't happen again," Chuck said darkly. "And neither will your little excursions to designer stores with other men."

Even though he had her at a slight disadvantage, he knew his wife could always get the upper hand. Even pressed against a bookcase, her hand wrapped around his throat, stopping his breath.

"If you ever hurt me again, I will kill you."

His heart gave a solid thud and he knew exactly how to respond.

"If you ever leave me for another man, I'll kill you."

There was only a second of her eyes faltering before their mouths met in a frenzy of lust. He trapped her hands above her head, and as her legs wrapped around his waist, he knew something.

It was his jealousy. It was a dangerous topic, but it was what pleased her. He controlled the situation. He refused to lock the door and refused to lose, but it was Blair.

It was his Blair. She knew that even though he was on top, she had the upper hand. Even though she knew she would never leave him for someone else, it assured her how intertwined they would always be


	8. The Color of Adultery

**A/N**: This isn't supposed to be a comment on spoilers or anything. This is just a little thing that isn't my interpreation of the season finale or anything. I've been told this is sort of angsty so...take with that which you will.

**Summary**: "The only thing that's ever been real is you and me," he said quietly. And suddenly he was reminded of a simple limo ride with a girl he had known his entire life moving slowly towards him.

**Disclaimer**: Inspiration and characters come from the love that I refuse to let die-Chuck and Blair. And to my awesome beta **comewhatmay.x-**she was extremely supportive for this one and I owe her my self esteem.

* * *

His eyes were dark and blank when she walked in. She had seen that dead expression on his face too many times to count, and for a moment, she had forgotten that she was in a white gown with another man's diamond on her finger.

But it was when Chuck took a swig from the bottle of Dom she hadn't seen at his side, she realized that it wasn't hate in his eyes. He was just drinking.

"Chuck," Blair said softly as she walked towards him. She took it as a consolation that he didn't shift away from her, as she first suspected, when she sat down beside him.

"I thought I would hide out in here until after the ceremony," Chuck finally said. "I didn't want to ruin your wedding."

"I was surprised you even came."

Chuck shrugged and took another drink.

"I got thirsty."

But then she laughed. He wasn't sure if he heard correctly, but he looked over to her and she actually seemed happy with him.

It had been awhile.

"What?" he asked uncomfortably.

Blair shook her head, looking at her lap before making eye contact with him again.

"I'm in a lot of trouble, I think," she finally said.

"Why do you say that?" Chuck asked. But he was finally sounding like himself, scorn lacing his every syllable. And even though she thought it would break her heart, she was finally relieved he wasn't pretending to be happy for her anymore. "It's your wedding day. You're going to have a coronation and move to Monaco. The whole thing. And I'll be here. Alone and bored."

"Would it be any different otherwise?" Blair asked, almost amused by his melodrama. "Only queens have coronations."

"I wouldn't put it past you to break that trend."

They held each other's gaze for a long moment and it was only just occurring to Blair how inappropriate this all was. And the things he said to make her feel without even trying.

"It's sort of ironic, you know."

"What is?" Blair sighed, the moment having passed.

"When I was sixteen I ran off to Monaco because you broke my heart," Chuck said. "The first time. And even though I tried to make you pay for it, you're the one marrying the prince of that country. If I've learned anything, it's that fate is cruel."

"Don't talk about him."

Chuck's suspicious eyes snapped up to hers. But he slid closer to her and she knew that she was just an adulteress. She always had been when it came to him.

"Please, Chuck," Blair said. "If you ever felt anything about me that was real, just don't talk about him."

"The only thing that's ever been real is you and me," he said quietly. And suddenly he was reminded of a simple limo ride with a girl he had known his entire life moving slowly towards him.

She didn't kiss him. Her breath was soft against his mouth and instead of kissing him, she wound her fingers through the hair at the back of his head.

"Then why didn't you tell me?"

In that moment, he couldn't help but laugh at himself for falling into her trap, the way he always did. She literally had him by the shorthairs, and that demanding voice of hers made him feel like he was home again.

"What instance would you be referring to?"

She pushed him away in frustration, and he knew that she wasn't thinking of some petty fight they had that neither of them had gotten over.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

Her voice was sad and Chuck didn't understand how the tables had turned.

"The only reason he proposed to me in the first place was because of you."

"I would relinquish that accusatory tone," Chuck advised.

"Don't do that," Blair said. "What were you doing the night he proposed?"

"Blair-"

"You know, Chuck," Blair snapped. "You know that he found out that you had a ring and he just wanted to prove something."

Chuck leaned away from her, his expression of melancholy mimicking hers.

"You knew I had a ring too, Blair," Chuck said. "It wouldn't have mattered."

"It _matters_," Blair said.

"Why?"

"Because I would have said yes," she said. "That day in the hospital... I would have said yes."

"Well you didn't," Chuck said. "You said yes to someone else."

"If you had known you still-"

"You have always known how I've felt," Chuck said. "That has never changed."

"But I didn't know how he felt."

"He loves you, Blair."

"But I thought he was different," she said. "I really can't get it right."

"He's only human."

"The problem is that's the first time I'm realizing it," Blair said. "You bought a ring because you wanted to. He did because he wanted to beat you. Even when I find the perfect person, they're not."

"No one's perfect."

"No," she agreed. "They're either sleeping with their stepmother or pretending they're feeling something that they're not."

"He loves you, Blair," he said again. "He does. This is just the way it turned out."

At her silence, he had to ask.

"You love him," he said.

But she wasn't looking at him and suddenly he wasn't so sure.

"Don't you?" he asked.

"He's perfect," Blair said.

"Blair."

"I love him," Blair affirmed. And then she was looking at him. "But..."

"But it'll never be what we had," he answered.

"Tell me I'm a whore."

"What?" Chuck asked, jerking away in complete confusion.

"Tell me I'm a horrible adulteress," Blair said. "Because I know it's true. Just sitting here with you—it's only a matter of time."

He was quiet.

"_Say_ it," Blair stressed.

"If you want me to," Chuck said. "I'll always do anything you ask me to. I'll do anything for you."

"Will you promise me that you'll still love me?" she asked.

His eyes never strayed from her face.

"When everyone finds out what a fraud I am," Blair continued, "when they see how dark and corrupted I am, can you promise that you'll still love me?"

"I have never gotten over losing you," Chuck said. "And I never will."

She leaned her head against his shoulder, and he let their bodies meld together.

And he knew there was no way they couldn't end up together.

"You're not a whore." Chuck knew he had to tell her. He knew it was something that she actually feared. "It's just something that neither of us could ever fight."

"I'm tired of rationalizations," Blair said. "But I don't know what to do now. If I stay here, I'll betray everyone."

"And I'll still love you."

"I know," Blair said quietly. "Sometimes I wish you just wouldn't."

"It would be easier," Chuck said. "But easy is a life you threw out a long time ago."

"If I had known this was the way I felt," Blair said, "I never could have gone through with it."

"I'm still here."

"I love you too."


	9. The World Has Folded In Your Heart

A/N: Just my rationalization for Chuck's actions. Once again. :)

Summary: She was the beginning and she would be the end. He was so sure of this conviction, that it was no surprise it felt as though his heart was tearing itself out of his chest.

Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to me. Thanks to the awesomest beta ever, **comewhatmay.x **Title comes from Remy Zero's "Save Me." By the by, this vignette was written before the season finale. Jsyk.

* * *

A man was meant to be an island. All to himself—fending, surviving, isolated. That was the only way that Chuck Bass knew how to live. It was the way his father had taught him and the way his uncle demonstrated. He never questioned, never challenged.

Chuck was a Bass and he never needed anyone to save him. Chuck was a Bass and he never had a reason to be saved.

Until the Bass patriarch died in a tragic accident and he found himself shooting up veins of lust, misplaced grief, and opium. He never let anything through. Not care, not understanding.

Not love.

She opened doors for him. She always had and he had no doubt that would never change. She was like him. Too cold, too hard, too passionate when it came down to it. Too much baggage. Too many problems with heads of the family, too much subservience when it came to refusal of approval.

Too beautiful.

Too magnetic.

She pulled him into her maelstrom and he wanted to inhale her into his lungs until he choked on her.

He didn't know why he pushed it away so hard. Her sharp heels, her shining white silk dress, her furious words. He felt his weakness and he hated how it had to show itself only in her presence. His emotion was too real, too powerful for him to suppress. Never had he cried in anyone else's presence, and he knew he wouldn't. Not even if he was bleeding to death or betrayed beyond his wildest imagination.

Her arms wrapped around him.

Too much emotion.

Too much feeling.

Too much love.

He gripped her forearm in his, pulling her with them as they sank down on the bed.

Too beautiful.

Too terrible.

Too destructive.

He would let her swallow him up because she was the first. She opened those floodgates and he knew that she would be the one he would never forget.

She took his virginity in a different way that he took hers, and he liked to imagine that when her barriers were stripped away to the vulnerability of another man, she would think of him.

Because he could never forget her.

Bleeding to death on a street in Prague, he never showed that much emotion.

But he let himself be saved.

Being betrayed by someone who had promised him his father's legacy, he never broke down.

He had let himself be saved from loneliness.

And he still felt those barriers.

He let an idealized blonde pry lead from his hip.

He let a desired dark beauty pick him off the floor of the kitchen of The Palace.

But he could never care enough to save them. He let the saint carry him to philanthropy and the sinner lead him through business politics. But they couldn't be both. They didn't have it in them to have the cool exterior and the fire below. They couldn't be the devil redeemed or the angel drawn to the dark side.

Because they weren't her.

He couldn't save them.

Because they weren't her.

He _wouldn't_.

He let himself be saved because it was easy. But he never broke his back to save them.

He couldn't care enough to save them.

They weren't her.

She was the beginning and she would be the end. He was so sure of this conviction, that it was no surprise it felt as though his heart was tearing itself out of his chest.

Always the way she broke his heart. It was the same way she made him feel that no other could replicate. The distress at seeing her with someone else. The insanity wracking his entire body. The sort of fear that drove him to rooftops and long white lines of oblivion.

Only her.

And she was the only one, with her back to the cold tile of her bathroom, that he would ever need to save.

He was paralyzed. He was struck to his core, he was shaken to his heart.

It wasn't the first time he had seen her like this.

It wasn't the first time he loved her, either.

Her eyelashes were fluttering and her chest was rising and falling faintly.

It was the only thing that kept his heart going.

The floor was hard against his knees as he knelt beside her, easing his hand beneath her neck.

"Come on, love," he whispered. "What did you do?"

She shifted slightly at the sound of his voice and he could take another breath.

"What did you do?" he asked again, shifting her body so he could cradle her fragile body in his.

She was the only one.

The only one that could fiercely knock him down with a gaze, and could fall apart so cruelly. She was so fierce, so fragile, and he loved her far too much. Too much for one man to handle for one lifetime. One love. But he didn't care.

She was stirring.

"Chuck?"

He didn't know how long she had been out, how close she was to fading from him.

But all of it could be all right again because she was saying his name.

"Are you going to let me fade away?"

His answer was communicated with a tighter grasp, the scent of her hair masking the evidence of every other sin that had occurred in that bathroom. The sort of ugliness that ripped from her throat. The sort of sheer terror resulting from neglect and criticism that he could understand.

That no one else could.

"Never."

He left everyone else to their own devices. Everyone else he could trust that they were strong enough, or someone else could help them.

It wasn't that way with her.

He could only trust himself when it came to Blair Waldorf.

Only Chuck Bass could take care of her and save her.

"My head hurts," she whispered. There was a faint smear of scarlet trickling from her hairline and he wished he had been there to catch her when she fainted.

With acid in her throat and self-loathing in her soul.

Like only he could understand.

"I'll take care of it."

Blair Waldorf was the only one who could say that.

Chuck Bass would always take care of her.

Only for her.

Only for Blair Waldorf would Chuck Bass do anything to save her.


	10. Duke and Duchess of Suffolk

**A/N**: This refused to leave my head after watching The Tudors.

**Summary**: The glass shattered against the door he had just closed and he breathed a sigh of relief. Because there she stood, and even though she had just thrown her drink at him, she was still there.

**Disclaimer**: Nothing is mine. As usual. Thanks to **comewhatmay.x**, my coolest (and only) beta. By the way, I wrote this MONTHS before the finale. Just a heads up. This isn't supposed to be a season 5 thing or anything. If anything, it's whe they're in their mid-20's.

* * *

It may have been luck, but Chuck Bass liked to think of it as instinct as he ducked the exact moment a martini glass was vaulted at his head. The glass shattered against the door he had just closed and he breathed a sigh of relief. Because there she stood, and even though she had just thrown her drink at him, she was still there.

"There you are," Chuck said easily.

"Did me throwing a glass at your head confuse you?"

Her voice was shrill and Chuck had to stop for a second to absorb her visage. There she stood in the center of the hotel suite, her with a hand on her hip while the other raked through her already ravaged-looking hair.

"I don't want to see you."

"Why don't you calm down for a second," Chuck said smoothly, well apt in calming down a hysterical Waldorf.

"Don't tell me to calm down," Blair seethed.

Except... She wasn't exactly a Waldorf anymore.

"Why not?" Chuck asked. "I'm your husband. I can tell you to do what I want."

This time she did throw another glass. He batted it easily out of the air before finally crossing the distance to bring her into his arms again.

"Barely," Blair snapped, shoving him away. "We've been married for barely two days, and even if it was more, in no universe can you _ever_ tell me what to do."

"Speaking of which," Chuck said dismissively. "We never did get to have that honeymoon. I was thinking Tuscany, but I'd understand if that was a sore spot for you."

"I can't _believe_ I ever even _considered_ romanticizing the thought of being your wife," Blair said. "This is all your fault."

"What's my fault, dear?" he smiled smarmily.

"Were you not downstairs?" Blair asked desperately. "Didn't you see how utterly humiliated I was?"

"Since when do you care what some society matrons think of you anyway?"

"Since you're the reason that they think that way of me," Blair retorted.

"Me?" Chuck asked. "I asked you to marry me and you accepted."

"You didn't ask," Blair snorted. "You demanded."

"I prefer _suggested_," Chuck said. "And you have free will."

"Then I must not have any sane mind," Blair replied. "Do you even see the way they look at me now?"

"So that's it, then?" Chuck asked. "You still care about what some girls' foundation cares to think of you?"

"Obviously," Blair retorted. "What do you think would happen, Chuck? What people think of you matters here."

"What people think of me," Chuck said.

"You were completely unrepentant," Blair defended. "I was supposed to be engaged to someone else and I come back married to someone who won't even apologize."

"Of course I'm not apologizing," Chuck said sharply. "I will never apologize for being married to you."

Her eyes wavered but it was only a moment until she made another outcry.

"You _promised_ me," Blair said, her voice escalating. "You promised that everything would be alright. That's what you said. You said you would take care of everything."

"I _am_," Chuck said, wondering how things could turn on its head so suddenly. "I will always protect and take care of you."

"I hate you."

Her voice was so full of rage that he had to throw it back.

"No you don't," he said warningly, never able to stop from emoting passionately because of her. "You're drunk."

Blair rolled her eyes, but simultaneously picked up another drink from the table, downing it in a gulp.

"You're not going back downstairs," Chuck said confidently. Blair gave out a trilling laugh, letting him pull her into an affectionate embrace.

"Starting to abuse your husbandly rights?" Blair asked.

Her lips tasted strongly of gin. He pulled her in closer, liking it even more.

"You love me," Chuck said commandingly, pulling away slightly.

"I never had a choice in the matter," she said crossly.

When he leaned in to kiss her alcohol laced lips again, he was shocked by the sharp slap cracking against the side of his face.

He gripped her shoulders tensely, growling in disapproval deep in his throat.

"Don't take me for granted," she ordered.

He shook his head gruffly from her sting, finally pinning her to the table behind her. He punished her roughly with his lips, ripping her skirt up her thigh. She gasped as his fingers dug into her hips.

Her hand was hard against his face, but this time he just shoved her back onto the table, easily crawling on top of her form.

He was hot and sharp and her moaning shriek sung sweetly in his ears. They moved against each other perfectly with hard, excruciating pleasure, and she ripped his shirt apart easily.

The glass fell from the thrusting table, and hit the ground, promptly shattering.


	11. I Know of No Reason

**A/N**: Try to forgive me for the dialogue. Pretty sure it's way too random. But it was something that I just had to write.

**Summary**: "You know exactly how to fix this. You want to hurt me. We are sickeningly sadistic and masochistic and you want to test me. You want to rip out my heart just to see that it belongs to you."

**Disclaimer**: Nothing belongs to me. All is Gossip Girl and the awesome beta was done by **comewhatmay.x**

* * *

"Ms. Waldorf reserves the right to her income provided by the magazine. She became editor before the marriage..."

"Mr. Bass is adamant about his ventures in strips clubs in the outer boroughs. Ms. Waldorf has no right to ask..."

.

"It brings up memories. Doesn't it?"

She looked so cold, so cruel, so beautiful.

He knew she was doing it just to torture him. And she would take every vindictive, delicious moment of it.

Blair Waldorf-Bass crossed her legs coolly, her black dress and blazer more appropriate for a funeral than divorce proceedings. Then again, he knew that the way she saw it, something was dying.

But he wasn't going to let that happen.

"Memory doesn't serve," Blair remarked as the lawyers trailed out of the room.

"Doesn't it?" he drawled. Her mask didn't move an inch, but he knew he was gaining territory on her. "You. Me. A notary. Mediations on who gets what..."

"I'm going to stop you right there," Blair held up a hand. "This isn't some childish game. We are dividing our assets and that is that. It's your own fault that you didn't have me sign a pre-nup."

"You didn't issue me one either," he pointed out. "You have as much wealth as I do."

"That is a mistake I will never make again," she promised.

"The pre-nup?" Chuck asked. "Or the divorce?"

"I'm talking about this sham of a marriage and you know it," Blair snapped.

"Don't," Chuck growled warningly, "say that. Ever."

"What did you expect?" Blair asked. "After everything that's happened?"

"You're right," Chuck responded. "This isn't some childish game. So you can't run whenever you get scared."

"Scared?" Blair asked. "_Scared_? I'm not the one who flees the country at the first sign of commitment."

"If you haven't noticed," Chuck said. "I proposed. And I'm still here."

"For now," Blair answered.

"What did I do?" Chuck asked. "Tell me. Did I cheat on you?"

He watched as her jaw set, knowing the answer to that question.

"I never abused you. Never could," Chuck said. "Just tell me what the problem is."

"You know," she said quietly. "So don't make me say it."

"Am I in love with someone else?"

Chuck was surprised he didn't get hit. She was so apt in delivering punishment as he deserved, but she didn't.

"Are you?" Chuck asked. "That must be it. You're in love with someone else so you're divorcing me."

"Don't even suggest something so preposterous-"

"So you still love me."

"I do," Blair said reluctantly. "That's the whole problem."

"Then this isn't over."

"It isn't that simple," Blair said. But as the words came from her mouth, she couldn't help but feel discomfited. He was smirking at her in that way that made her suspicious that he could see into her innermost insecurities.

That was what always got her in trouble.

"You were vindictive in there."

Her stomach jerked because he was nearing her and that tone of admiration and desire was the exact thing that she didn't need.

"Like when we were twenty," he said, rounding the table so it wasn't separating them any longer than he could stand. "How you pretended you actually wanted _Victrola_ so it didn't look like you were giving up too much territory. Just like you're doing now."

"Don't do that," she said.

"Do what?" he asked, feigning ignorance. "Do you remember that night? All of your inhibitions hidden away. So suppressed that all it took was a little push to make them explode all over that piano?"

"We're not twenty anymore, Chuck," Blair said.

"Let me fix this."

"You can't fix me," Blair said.

"So you're the problem?" Chuck asked. "I doubt that."

"The issue is that my problem is you," Blair said curtly.

"Why?" Chuck asked. "There has to be actual grounds for divorce."

"And I gave them," Blair said. "Dissolution of marriage."

"Dissolution of marriage," Chuck repeated. "The only thing that has been dissolved is your sanity."

"All the more reason."

Chuck laughed shortly. Sometimes, he had to wonder. He had to wonder if she just jerked him around like this purposely. If she was afraid he would get bored and that this was the only way to keep his attention.

But he knew the real reason. The real reason was that she was so insecure. Just like him. How they grated and fought because really, they were the same. It was hard, but it was worth it.

"You don't need to tell me," Chuck finally said. "It's the same problem we've always had."

"And what problem would that be?" Blair asked. "Your abandonment? Prostituting me for a hotel?"

"It's just us," Chuck said. "We destroy ourselves from the inside because we can't stand the thought of watching ourselves die out. That's the reason."

"You're rationalizing."

"And you're in denial," Chuck responded.

"You and I are too volatile," Blair said.

"Too volatile."

She hated the way he repeated her words. Like she was just some delusional child. But then he would smirk at her and she cursed her heart for fluttering.

"This problem isn't going away," Blair said.

"You don't want it," Chuck said. "You don't want me to stop being the person that I am. You would hate me for that even more."

"I don't hate you," Blair said. "I just don't want to be afraid of vendettas anymore."

There was a split second and he knew it.

"You're lying."

She visibly stiffened, and rage spread through his bones.

"You can't expect me to fix it if you're lying."

"You think you want me to tell you the truth," Blair said. "But you don't."

"Everything I do is for you."

"That's your rationalization?" Blair asked. "That's why your obsessive need to best your father overtakes your life? You need to face the facts. He wouldn't care, even if he was alive."

"So that's it," Chuck nodded, not even fazed of her disrespect. "It's the company."

"How can I ever accept something that has brought us nothing but misery in the past?" Blair demanded.

"Because it's for you," Chuck protested. "How am I supposed to compete with lords and princes? The company is all I have to offer you. I make all of this money for you."

"You make it for yourself and you know it," Blair retorted.

"You're doing this just to hurt me," Chuck said.

"Now who's rationalizing?" Blair asked. "Don't make this an easy fix. We're getting divorced. That's it."

She should have known he wouldn't back down.

"That's what you want, isn't it?" he asked. "You know exactly how to fix this. You want to hurt me. We are sickeningly sadistic and masochistic and you want to test me. You want to rip out my heart just to see that it belongs to you."

"And what would that prove?" Blair asked. "I know you're not going to give up the company. Would the next best thing work? What would hurt you? If I slept with another man?"

His hands held a crushing grip on her upper arms, but she never backed down. His wife was never one to back down.

"Don't be stupid," he said warningly. Blair shoved him away.

"I don't want to hurt you," she said. "I just want to get out before both of us get destroyed."

"We already are," Chuck retorted. "We were destroyed the moment you got on that stage. And the moment you got into my limo, it was too late. You know that. You want to sleep with someone else? You know exactly what I would do."

"And what would that be?" she asked sneeringly.

"You know I would destroy him," Chuck said. "Whoever he was. But you don't really want to sleep with someone else. You don't want to hurt me. You want to pretend that you can break us that easily. But no matter how many times we're broken, I will always piece us back together."

"I have the strongset urge to hit you right now," Blair said coldly.

"Take your best shot," Chuck said slyly. "It's not like you haven't before."

"You deserved it then."

"And what about now?" he asked. "Can you honestly fault me for wanting to give you everything?"

"I hate you," Blair snapped in frustration. "Why do you have to make everything so difficult?"

"Why do I have to make you leaving me difficult?" Chuck laughed. "It's in my nature."

"I loathe you," was all Blair said as an answer.

"And you and I both know where that leads," he smirked.

True enough, there was a conference table behind them. And that frightened her most of all.

"I want a divorce," Blair said petulantly, doing everything but stamping her foot.

"You want to make sure that I'm not taking you for granted," he said soothingly. "And you know I'm not."

At least she didn't slap him. That was the only thing he thought of when her palms made contact with his lapels.

And just like when they were teenagers, it all went to hell.

He wasn't the one to kiss her this time, but he was the one to shove her against the table where their previous divorce proceedings had been going on.

And that said it better than either of them ever could when firing their lawyers.

_Fuck divorce._


	12. Cheap and Cheerful

**A/N**: This just came to while I was watching Skins (the awesome UK version, obvs.) They have no real established CB couple, but nevertheless, my Chair mind cannot sleep.

**Summary**: "You'll break my heart and I'll break yours," Chuck says. "But we'd be good together."

**Disclaimer**: Nothing belongs to me. All is GG. Pretty sure **comewhatmay.x** beta-ed this one too or I wouldn't be posting. Chapter title belongs to The Kills.

* * *

"We'd be good together."

He doesn't know why he says it on a shot of whiskey and a slight buzz of weed. Blair rolls onto her side, her eyes narrowing up at him from her relaxed position on the floor. She looks irritated, but sits up against the couch like he is.

After she finishes deciding whether he's serious or not, she speaks.

"No we wouldn't."

"You think so?" Chuck asks, spreading his arm over the bare shoulders of her strapless party dress to prove a point.

She's laughing and he knows that he is the only one who sees the real Blair Waldorf.

"I'd break your heart," Blair says, like it's the most obvious thing in the world, and he's a fool for not acknowledging it.

"Would you now?" Chuck asks. "No one breaks my heart. I'm Chuck Bass."

"I would," Blair says. "And I'd love doing it too. That's why we won't be good together."

"We're too similar," Chuck murmurs.

"I'll break your heart."

There is no alternative.

He doesn't acknowledge the fact that she's suddenly using present tense.

"Is that why you're with Nate?" Chuck asks. "Because he can't break your heart?"

"He'd have to try a lot harder than you."

"You think so?" Chuck asks again.

"I already know he's in love with Serena," Blair says. "It wouldn't be a surprise."

"Then why don't you leave him?" Chuck asks. "Because you love him?"

"Because you and I wouldn't be good together," Blair answers.

"You can't break my heart," Chuck challenges.

"Yes I can," Blair answers. Chuck smiles. "I'm the only female you're close with. And not in the literal way. I've lulled you into a false sense of security. I know you."

"Because we're too similar," Chuck smirks.

"Because you trust me," Blair answers, "like you don't allow yourself to trust anyone else. Not even your father."

"Especially not him," Chuck mutters.

"People who are the same don't work together," Blair finally says. "That's why I'm with Nate."

"I think people who are the same work together," he answers. "Who wouldn't judge you when you destroy those who oppose you? Who is as cruel and vindictive as you?"

"I'll break your heart," Blair says. "People who are the same are predictable. You love them because you're egocentric but you get bored because you know exactly what comes next."

"So I'll opt for the second option," Chuck says. "You and I are the same, Waldorf. In all the right ways."

"Not quite," Blair says. "I don't drink a fifth of scotch. I'm not an easy lay. And I'm the best you'll ever have."

"I have no doubt," Chuck says. "Because we're the same. But you'll never stop surprising me."

"It will behoove you to forget this conversation," Blair says after a moment.

"It would behoove you to be underneath me," Chuck smirks. Blair turns to look at him.

"Classy."

"I'm drunk."

"You're not."

"But that's what you're going to tell Nate."

"Yes it is."

"Because we're the same."

Blair looked back at him.

"Don't do it, Bass."

"Do what?"

"Whatever you're thinking," Blair says. "It won't end well."

"I don't think that far," Chuck answers. "All I'm thinking about it what's under that dress."

"Don't follow through," Blair says. "It won't end well."

"You'll break my heart and I'll break yours," Chuck says. "But we'd be good together."

"Yes. We would."


	13. The Demon I Cling To

**A/N**: Inspired exclusively by Gaga's song Judas. And my need for CB to be together. This is obviously post season 4 finale, so some topics are addressed pertaining to that.

**Summary**: She was a whore, an adulteress, a courtesan by the loosest definition. Even if she had gone to confession the day after she lost her virginity, it didn't change the fact that it was gone.

**Disclaimer**: Nothing belongs to me. Characters and potential plotline belongs to GG. Thanks to the coolest beta ever, **comewhatmay.x**.

* * *

Holy water wouldn't burn her.

In theory.

She could enter a church without bursting into flame—and she had done so. She was a whore, an adulteress, a courtesan by the loosest definition. Even if she had gone to confession the day after she lost her virginity, it didn't change the fact that it was gone.

And she liked it.

She repented because she wanted salvation, not because she actually felt it.

The same reason applied to her marriage. It was also the same reason she slid a canary yellow diamond onto her finger, forsaking a Harry Winston one.

She repented. But not for the act itself. She repented for the reason that she didn't care if she repented or not.

She sought penance for her indifference.

"You still love him."

It was a statement that actually took her by surprise. A future husband and a sad state of fact, and she couldn't help but be surprised. The prince at her side had seen everything she had done and still loved her.

That didn't mean that he could understand it. He saw dark eyes and accusing glares, and she was well aware of her swollen abdomen, on display for all of elite society to see.

"You knew that," she whispered. "You knew that from the beginning."

"I guess I thought you would get over it."

It was the real tragedy of it all. He didn't understand it. He didn't understand her when she thought he would. When she thought that there didn't have to be just one person who did.

But there was. And there was no changing that.

"I love you."

It wasn't a lie. That didn't mean that it was enough either.

"But you love him more."

"Not more," she replied. "Just differently."

"If you loved me enough, you would be able to let him go."

"I did."

"I see the way he looks at you."

"He hates me."

"He still looks at you," he said. "You were willing to let me go for him. But you can't leave him alone for me."

Chuck had hated her before, but this was different. This involved a life within her, and she couldn't encourage that the way she had in the past.

And yet it was the same. He still hated her and he still hated her under false pretenses.

"Deigning to greet the common masses, your Highness?"

He was sneering in that beautiful way that he did and she wished he wasn't so entitled.

Even if she loved that about him. Even if she loved everything about him. Even this.

"Treat me like a whore."

His eyes were conflicted and she went in for the kill.

"It shouldn't be that hard now that you're already doing it."

"Your crown Prince's royal heir is ruining the banter we have right now."

"Banter?" Blair asked in disbelief.

If that was what he really considered calling it. But his eyes were on her stomach and she knew the truth of his disdain. She knew it like she knew herself. She knew that it was melancholy wrapped in a hateful ribbon, all tied up prettily like everyone on the Upper East Side did.

"As always."

"So you're not calling me a whore."

"Should I?"

"Yes," Blair answered. "Because I am one."

"I'm not one for your self pity."

"Then why don't you wear a condom next time," Blair suggested. "Then we wouldn't be in this situation."

His eyes were drawn to her stomach again.

But he had that wolfish smirk about him again and he grabbed her arm as she tried to leave.

"Next time?" he asked. "Will there be a next time?"

"And now you're all sweet," Blair said delicately.

"Now that I know what's in your womb isn't the heir to a monarchy, but the heir to an Empire."

It was sad, but it was true that the moment she realized he was it for her was also the moment he allowed her to be happy with someone else.

But it was just getting harder. He wasn't to be head of state, but he was still a king, even if he was a king without a crown.

When it came down to it, she didn't need one. She didn't need him to have one and she didn't need one either. No matter how much she believed she did.

He always muddled things.

The demonic emperor wasn't really a demon at all.

He had the eyes and the sensibility, but being raised in the dark didn't mean he was evil.

The Prince of Monaco had been her virtue. But she was a Queen and a whore and she would burn her throat with holy water because she wasn't repenting for anything.


	14. Anarchy in the UES

**A/N**: I wrote this during the Louis hysteria which I have since gotten somewhat over.

**Summary**: "I'll be weak if you want. I'll be mature if you ask," Chuck said. "But I'm starting to think he didn't make you as happy as you claimed."

**Disclaimer**: Nothing is mine. Inspiration from various sources, most of which, of course, is Gossip Girl. Chuck and Blair. Thanks to **comewhatmay.x**, as always.

* * *

It was cold. It was no longer winter, with frigid stares and icy interiors, but there was a definite chill. But at the opening of the new hotel, Serena felt the heat. And from the open stares of the corporate weasels, she knew she wasn't the only one judging.

For the first time since Serena could remember, they weren't staring at her.

"Dressed to kill."

It came out more like a question, but Blair's smirk was a confirmation to everything. For the first time it was Serena who wanted to protect the prey to Blair's predator. Not the other way around. Blair had been strong for a long time.

And she was ready.

"Blair," Serena said as her best friend placed her glass daintily on the bar counter with a delicate clink.

"You always were on his side," Blair mused, without any sort of venom tracing her voice.

"I wasn't," Serena said. "I was on yours. You were the one who was always on his side."

"Including tonight?"

"I have a feeling that you're more out for blood tonight than anything else," Serena said.

"Not blood," Blair said sweetly. "Just victory."

Serena wished that skirt wasn't so short. But even so, everyone knew the Devil's kryptonite.

And the Devil had been staring the moment she had entered.

_(I like to be the one doing the entering.)_

"Who is she?"

"Do you care?"

"You did."

Chuck didn't like it. The dress, her face, her fucking heart he hated for still beating for him.

But if he was fooling himself, he wouldn't.

Because he fucking loved all of it. He just hated himself because he told her he didn't anymore. He wouldn't allow himself to any longer.

"Didn't you, Chuck?"

He hated it. He hated how he loved the way her mouth clucked that word around like it was another and he hated how she was backing away from him.

"Don't do this."

But he was smiling and smirking like he only did for her.

"Do what?"

She was still backing away from him and he knew it was her plan all along. She had him on a string and he had no choice but to let her lead him wherever she damn well pleased.

He let his Queen do whatever she wanted with him.

"Chuck?"

She definitely knew what saying his name did to him. He had asked her to do it enough times.

"Blair," he countered.

He liked that smile on her lips.

She always led him into secluded rooms.

_(I want to talk.)_

_(I prefer to talk after.)_

"Don't do this to me," he said.

It was a bathroom and his girl did kink like no one else.

"Because of your girlfriend?"

The bathroom door clicked behind them.

"She's not my girlfriend."

"Just a fuck, then?"

"Just a good body," Chuck said. "Like yours. But less."

She was thrown off her game and he liked that he could do that better than anyone.

"Because you'll always love me?" Blair asked slickly.

It wasn't right. None of this was. But he was her dog and he would do anything.

"That's what you said, wasn't it?" Blair asked. "You said that you'd always love me."

"I was trying to do the mature thing."

"You are very mature."

He couldn't tell if she was mocking or teasing or something on the edge of innuendo, but he would take it all. Just to hear her talk to him that way again.

"Am I?" Chuck asked. "We're in a bathroom."

"There's a double-edged sword to being mature," Blair said. "Like that girl out there. Like me, but less. You don't want to cheat on her. You may be a lecher, but you're not a cheater."

"And we're not in a committed relationship," Chuck said. "Besides, that only applied to you."

"What did?"

"Maturity."

"Are you still mature now that I don't have a ring on my finger?"

"What do you want me to say?"

_(Say what? I'll say anything.)_

"The right thing."

"I never stopped loving you."

"That wasn't what I asked."

"I let you go for him," Chuck said. "But that was the only allowance I was willing to make. I thought you were going to marry him. You didn't."

"What are you saying?"

"I'll be weak if you want. I'll be mature if you ask," Chuck said. "But I'm starting to think he didn't make you as happy as you claimed."

"He made me happy," Blair acquiesced. "Just not fulfilled."

"How much did he fill you?"

And there was that sneer that she loved.

"Do you want to make me happy?"

His sneer fell away and he knew maturity was not for show. They had changed and moved on, but here they were.

Meant to be.

Like it always had been.

"More than anything."

"How happy?"

It was taunting and it was relentless and he hated her for it.

He loved her.

Her breath was tantalizing and sweet and she was right.

It had taken all her strength to pull away from him.

He was never as strong as her.

"Are you willing to make me happier than is conceivably possible?"

"Just don't hide from me."

"And that girl?"

"She certainly doesn't get down for me like you do."

Her hands were hard against his chest. His breath cut out as his back hit the wall. But then it was taken by something not nearly as vengeful as her lips sought his. His shirt was out of his pants, buttons flying across the room and he smiled with relief into her mouth.

He knew why that skirt was so short.

He pushed her across the counter, legs hiked wherever he so pleased, and he didn't care that the door was unlocked and forgotten.

"You know how I know this is right?"

He missed her neck.

"Yes."

"Because I don't feel guilty."

"I'll never feel guilty with you again," he promised.

Her legs were pale, locked across his back, under his shirt and he didn't hear the door.

All he knew were Blair's nails digging into his scalp.

He didn't need to see to know the victorious dark eyes of his love were glaring at the surprised whore who had been hanging over him the entire night.


	15. The New World

A/N: I haven't updated this in awhile, and honestly, I didn't really think I'd continue, but I just got inspired. So here you go.

Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to me. Characters and angst and such are solely GG. But my passion for Chair remains. Thanks to comehwatmay.x for the beta.

* * *

He always felt like he was in a daze now. He was wandering through the desert to find an oasis he knew could never be there for him again. He saw Eleanor's cruel stare and felt her suspicion suffocating him. He wished he could deny all of it, but he didn't know where he was himself.

_ She's upstairs._

He couldn't thank the woman who called him the Big Bad Wolf. All he could do was be surprised that he wasn't being tarred and feathered. They saw the remains of royal destruction that even he couldn't understand and he was too smart to believe that it wasn't his fault.

Somehow, it was his fault. He just couldn't piece together what had actually happened.

His steps up the stairs were hesitant and she was exactly where he thought she would be. But there was still some distortion to this new world he encountered and by looking into her eyes, he could tell that she felt the same way.

She stood from her vanity, only to sit in front of her bathroom mirror. For some reason, he felt a sort of destructive foreboding as he followed her in there. But the door was closed and he sat against the tub, watching her apply her make-up.

Every brushstroke was measured and careful. They had hesitant eyes and hesitant movements, and he wished that they weren't caught in some sort of limbo that they could never be free from.

She placed her eye shadow delicately on the counter.

This time she stared at him. He wished he could meet her eyes. He wished he wasn't acutely aware that there was only one ring on her finger and it sparkled like blood.

_ We're still friends. Aren't we?_

He had to look. She was almost too dazzling to look at but her gaze commanded him.

_Always_.

He stood, walking forward, compelled by a force he couldn't name.

_Chuck_.

Her necklace dug into his collarbone as her pants came sharp against his neck. Her nails dug into his back as he tried to gain leverage.

_ I still love you._

He let go and they were both rubbed raw from emotion.

He watched her sit down to reapply her make-up and he took his seat against the bathtub again. He just watched, still able to feel her phantom warmth all over him.

She stood up again, casting a glance over her shoulder.

_ I really do._


End file.
